


More Than a Monster- Vampire!Markiplier x reader

by JoanOfStars



Category: Teamiplier - Fandom, markiplier - Fandom, youtube - Fandom
Genre: Markiplier - Freeform, Other, Vampire AU, Vampire!Ethan, blood warning, gender neutral reader, in which mark and amy are not dating, it's a vampire story, some death i guess???, vampire!markiplier - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-20
Updated: 2018-06-14
Packaged: 2019-03-21 21:26:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 11,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13749561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoanOfStars/pseuds/JoanOfStars
Summary: You and the rest of the team are the best thing that's ever happened to him. He's determined not to lose you to his curse.





	1. His Curse

**Author's Note:**

> It's a cliche vampire thing, but that's what I do best.

_"And I will see you in the next video. Buh bye!"_

_Mark's cheerful smile dropped as soon as he left the office. He stumbled into the living room and collapsed on the couch. Everything was blurring together and his head was pounding. He rolled over on his side and hugged himself tight. He was so cold. Why was he so cold?_

_Everything checked out. He’d been getting enough sleep, enough sunlight- to the point of it burning him pretty badly- and enough food and water, although they weren’t giving him much satisfaction. What was he missing?_

_He must’ve been sick. With what, he wasn’t sure. His sinuses were fine, his throat didn’t hurt, and he wasn’t nauseous. He was just so cold. And… hungry._

_For the fifth time that day, he forced himself off the couch and threw open the fridge. He didn’t pay much attention to what he was taking. It was some cheap microwave meal that probably wouldn’t have tasted good to anyone, but he heated it up and ate it anyway. Usually he would have cooked something, but he couldn’t wait._

_It didn't sate him. If anything, he felt worse._

_He was resigned to spend most of the day on the couch, but as the hours ticked by, and he could almost no longer bear the pain, he finally decided to go to the hospital._

_As soon as he opened the door to leave, he was hit with a thousand different smells and sounds, and it threw him off. His head was pounding and his vision was swimming. He couldn’t drive like this._

_He hailed a taxi, nearly falling over as he did so. As soon as he opened the door to climb in, he froze. The smell of iron overwhelmed his senses, and the only clear thought that passed through his head was that he knew what he was craving. He climbed in frantically, and before he even knew what he was doing, his teeth were in the driver’s neck, and his hand was over their mouth._

_The part of Mark that was human was gone. The craving took over as he sank his fangs deeper in his faceless victim. He felt them crying out under his hand, but he didn’t pay any attention. All that mattered was the blood, and getting more of it. More. It was the only thing he could think. He needed more. Even though he wasn’t paying much attention, he felt his head clear and his body warm up. His strength returned, more than there was before, as the taxi driver’s failed, and whoever Mark was holding under his hand went limp in the seat._

_Mark finally pulled away when his victim’s whimpering had stopped and their pulse was no longer beating in his ears. His fangs disappeared as he looked down and felt the guilt that came with being human return to him. His stomach hurt again, but this time, it was because of nausea. He couldn’t move. He hardly breathed._

_While he was drinking, he hadn’t paid attention to whose life he’d been taking._

_It was a girl. She had long red hair and a picture of a child in her pocket. Mark had killed someone: a woman who had a child to return home to. He felt tears pricking at the back of his throat. He knew what it was like to lose a parent. Now he was responsible for putting someone through that._

_He didn’t know what to do. Was she going to turn into a vampire now? The unspoken word stung and he visibly flinched. Vampire. He was a vampire. She might be a vampire-_

Suddenly a loud scream pulled him out of his trance with a start. You, nestled into his side, chuckled. “Did the king of Five Nights at Freddy’s just get startled by a bad horror movie?” The team was having a movie night. You, Mark, and Ethan were sitting on the couch, and Kathryn and Tyler were sitting on the floor. Amy was lying down with her head on the other girl’s leg. 

It was the girls’ idea to watch a cheap horror movie: a suggestion the rest of you weren’t too excited about, until it turned out it was entertaining to make fun of.

“I was just thinking.” He said. Disappointed by his lack of humor, you turned back to watching the movie as the others laughed at Ethan’s bad impression of the main character. 

“Amy, pass me the popcorn, will you?” You asked. She took a handful, then sent it back to the couch. Ethan reached over and grabbed some without taking his eyes off the screen.

Stuffing way too much popcorn in your mouth, you asked Mark “Are you sure you don’t want any?”

He smiled at you fondly and nodded. “I’m sure.”

You shrugged as Kathryn reached her hand up, gesturing for you to give her the popcorn back. “Suit yourself, I guess.” You handed her the bowl. “I’m concerned at how little you eat.” It was meant to sound like a sarcastic comment, but there was real worry in your voice.

He brushed you off. “I’ve eaten enough chicken and dumplings in my time that my body doesn’t need any more sustenance.”

“That’s true.” Said Tyler. “I think he’s made of the stuff.”

A popcorn kernel hit the side of Tyler’s head. “Hey!”

“Shut up,” Kathryn said. “I’m trying to watch the movie.”

“You need all your concentration to figure out what’s going on.” Murmured Amy.

Tyler looked outraged. “Why didn’t you throw popcorn at her?” He asked.

“Amy’s too perfect to be marred by buttery popcorn.” She said as if it was simply an undeniable fact. No one denied it.

Mark rolled his eyes. He could feel the threat of malnourishment growing in his stomach. He realized with grave acceptance that he would have to drink soon, and you were very close to him.

He sighed. He had more self control than that. And he was smarter now than to go that long without blood, but he felt guilt like a weight on his chest every time he drank. He’d learned over the years; that much was certain, but he’d lost friends along the way. People had left when they found out what he was. People had died because of him.

That wasn’t going to happen with you.

You and the rest of the team were the best thing that had ever happened to him. He was determined not to lose you to his curse.


	2. Stress

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pardon my inability to write exposition shit

You woke up to familiar, feather-light kisses peppering your nose and cheeks. You let out a sleepy giggle as your eyes fluttered open to meet Mark’s. He was smiling, looking refreshed and ready to face the day. “Good morning.” He said in his deep, gravelly morning voice. 

“Morning,” you yawned and closed your eyes. “You're way too happy to be awake.” 

“How can I be upset when I wake up to an angel every morning?” He said. You groaned at how cheesy he was and turned away from him. He pulled you back, rolling over on his back and wrapping his arm around you so that your head was against his chest and you were trapped there, unable to move against his superior strength, not that you would have tried. You smiled against his skin and traced circles on his bare chest as it rose and fell with his breathing.

You laid there in blissful silence for a while, letting your eyes fall closed again and enjoying the morning and the fact that you were laying there with him rather than starting work or getting ready for the day.

Eventually, you broke the silence. “I woke up late last night and you weren't here.” You said. “Where were you?”

His arm around you, whether he intended it or not, tensed, and he was silent for a moment. “I couldn't sleep.” He explained. “So I wandered around outside for a while.”

“That sounds like a really stupid thing to do in L.A. in the middle of the night.” You knew he had bad nightmares sometimes, and you'd told him to wake you up if he wanted to talk, but he refused. He said it was because he didn't want to show weakness like that, but you knew it was actually because he didn't want to disturb your sleep. You yawned again. “But I guess you weren't cheating on me or anything, so that's good.”

“Never.” He said, squeezing you.

“I suppose we should get up, shouldn't we?” You said, making no move to do so.

“Mmm, five more minutes…” He buried his face in your hair and threw his other arm around you. 

“Jesus, Mark,” you strained. “Don't break me please.”

He chuckled, a low rumble in his chest, and rolled over on top of you. “MARK!” You squealed. “FUCKING HELL GET OFF ME!”

Mark laughed and squeezed you before rolling the other way and practically falling out of bed. You gasped dramatically for breath as he rolled his eyes. “I'm not _that_ heavy.” He said.

“Yeah, well, heavy enough that you can fucking crush me.” You said.

He grinned and hooked his arms under you, throwing the blankets to the side and carrying you bridal style to the kitchen. You simply groaned. “Now I'm cold.” You whined.

“That's the price you pay for pancakes.” Said Mark, setting you down in one of the dining chairs. He turned on his heel and began to whistle as he grabbed what he needed to make breakfast.

“Yeah, whatever. I'm going to go take a shower.” You said. He hummed, confirming he'd heard, and you left. Cuddling with him was always done in bed or with a blanket because, as he'd explained a long time ago, he had very poor circulation and was almost always cold. He assured you his medical condition didn't bother him, but it created need for many many blankets when you slept together at night.

When you were out of the shower and dressed, you found breakfast on the table, but no Mark; however, you did hear a few familiar, loud voices upstairs. You plated a few pancakes, grabbed a fork, and headed upstairs.

You pressed your ear to the door and heard the voices of Mark, Ethan and Tyler saying something about dead Jewish children, and assumed they were playing Cards Against Humanity: a video you would have to try to make entertaining through the magic of editing.

Downstairs, you scrolled through Twitter and eventually picked up a book, impatiently waiting for them to be finished. They were easy to hear through the floor, and you prayed your neighbors had gotten used to the noise they made.

~

A couple nights later, the team ate dinner at your apartment, courtesy of Mark’s superior cooking skills, and now you, Amy, Kathryn, and Tyler were in the living room playing Ultimate Chicken Horse. Mark and Ethan were in the kitchen, cleaning up. Or something. None of you had paid much attention, and it was hard to focus on much other than Kathryn kicking your asses at the game.

The boys in the other room heard you yelling and Ethan chuckled to himself.

“They're having way too much fun without us.” He said. Mark was quiet.

Ethan frowned, but he didn't want to pester his friend, so he went back to drying the dishes Mark had just washed.

After a few minutes of unusually uncomfortable silence, Ethan threw the towel on his shoulder and turned to Mark, who was staring intently and scrubbing a particularly stubborn grease stain on his pan.

“Mark, are you okay?” He asked.

The older man spared him a glance. “Why?” He asked.

“I dunno, it just seems like you've been kinda… down for awhile.” He said. “Like since about time you started dating (Y/n).”

Mark's brow furrowed and his head shot up. “What are you implying?”

Ethan raised his hands in defense. “Nothing, nothing, I'm just concerned for you.”

Reluctantly, Mark turned back to the pan he was scrubbing. “(Y/n) isn't doing anything wrong. They’re fantastic. The light of my life.” A hint of a smile crossed his face as you swore at Amy from the other room. Something about a trap.

“Just making sure.” Said Ethan. He rinsed the pan and began to dry it. “So, what _is_ wrong, then?”

“Can't you just let it go?” Mark snapped. He sighed and grabbed a steak knife to wash. “Sorry. It's just work. Stressing me out a little.”

“If you say so,” Ethan replied. “You know you can take a break if you want. The fans won't care.”

“Yeah,” Said Mark. He handed Ethan the clean knife. “But it's not that big of a deal.”

“You've been getting tense like this for a long time, you know. How long have you been dating (Y/n)? Six months or so now?” He counted the months. “Yeah, it's been a while. Just don't hurt yourself, Mark.”

Mark huffed a laugh. “Don't worry about me.”

“I don't- ah shit!” Ethan suddenly pulled back and dropped the knife. 

Mark smelled it before he saw it. Ethan's blood was dripping from his hand and from the knife that was now in the sink. He looked at the blood and froze, the sponge idle against a dirty plate. He could feel his fangs grow in. His eyes would change any second now.

“Fuck. Where’s your first-aid kit?” Ethan asked, pressing a paper towel to the streak of red on his palm. Mark said nothing. Hunger battled heart. Instinct battled humanity.

“Mark?” Ethan touched his friend’s shoulder. “Are you-”

“Bathroom closet.” Mark turned away from him. Shit. His eyes were probably glowing at this point. Somewhere in the distance, Tyler was shouting.

“Okay…” Ethan said, slightly concerned. “Thanks.”

Mark fought the urge until he was sure Ethan was out of earshot. When he was sure the he was gone, Mark scrambled for the knife and brought it to his mouth in desperation. It'd been days since he'd had any sort of sustenance other than the regular food you and he ate, and that could never provide him with any sort of fulfillment, let alone keep his body running properly.

He licked the knife clean, but it wasn't enough. He sank to the ground with his back to the counter, pulling his knees into his chest. His nails dug into his skin. He'd had a taste, and he couldn’t bear to wait another second for more. 

Coincidentally, he didn't have to.

Ethan rounded the corner into the room, hand bandaged. “Alright, I'm-”

Mark's hand shot out and seized the other’s wrist in a vice-like grip. He drew it to his lips and inhaled the scent of Ethan's blood under the gauze. The boy tried to pull away, but Mark’s strength was beyond compare.

“Mark?” He asked. “What the fuck are you doing!?” Mark ignored him. His eyes fell closed and he let Ethan’s scent overwhelm him. “Look, I don't know what kind of kinky blood or bondage type shit you're into, and frankly I don't care, but don't bring me-”

Ethan was cut off with a gasp of pain as Mark’s teeth sank into his wrist.


	3. Hallucinations

Before Ethan could recover from his shock, Mark pulled him down onto his knees with his free hand and covered his mouth. Ethan began to struggle, trying to scream against the hand covering his mouth, but like always, Mark was much stronger, and he was ignoring Ethan's muffled cries.

Someone yelled from the living room. Mark didn't care enough to place the voice. "Are you two playing nice in there?"

Ethan tried to shout: to get your attention somehow. His toes and fingers were starting to lose feeling and his vision was swimming. In his worsening state, one coherent thought crossed his mind: _Mark is going to kill me._

But he wouldn't... right? Mark was his _friend_. But his head kept spinning. He fell limp. He didn't have the energy to keep fighting him. 

Just as Ethan thought he couldn't hold on any longer, and was about to submit to unconsciousness, Mark pulled away.

"Oh my god..." Mark muttered to himself. How could he have been so stupid? He hadn't lost control in months. And his best friend no less...

Ethan groaned in Mark's arms and let the darkness take him.

Thank god. He was still alive. Mark brought his wrist to his lips and pierced his own flesh, quickly pressing the small bleeding punctures to Ethan's mouth. In his groggy state, slipping between sleep and consciousness, the boy tried to push his hand away, but he couldn't muster the strength. He had no choice but to swallow the thick metallic liquid.

"I'm sorry," Mark whispered. "I'm so sorry..." The punctures in Ethan's wrist and the cut on his hand healed quickly. Soon, there was no trace of the incident other than the blood staining both mens' shirts. 

"Shit." Ethan was now completely limp in Mark's arms. He lifted his friend, and with rejuvenated strength, carried him upstairs to the bedroom you and him shared.

He needed an alibi. Ethan was out cold, and unless someone woke him, he would stay like that for a while. For the time being, Mark slipped his shirt of his shoulders and did the same with Ethan's. He threw something else on, and replaced Ethan's shirt with one that was too small for Mark. He'd been procrastinating getting rid of it.

Mark laid Ethan gently on the bed and took the bloodied bandage off of his now healed hand. He had to come up with something. What was a good reason for Ethan to have passed out?

There was a knock at the door.

"Mark, are you in there?" You asked.

"Uh..." He glanced down at Ethan. "Yeah."

"Can I come in? They were looking for you downstairs. Have you seen Ethan?"

Fucking hell, could this possibly get any worse? "I- he- yeah, just come in." Mark sighed. 

"What the hell? What happened to him?" You asked, seeing Ethan unconscious on the bed.

"I don't know." Said Mark, running a hand through his hair. "He passed out while we were washing dishes."

"So you took him to our room?" You raised an eyebrow as you laid your hand on Ethan's forehead.

"I guess I panicked." Mark replied.

"Jesus, he's cold." Your brow furrowed. "Maybe we should call an ambulance." You said as you pressed two fingers to the inside of his wrist. "His heart is beating really fast. I'm going to call 911."

Fuck. Maybe he could pass Ethan's lack of blood as a strange, inexplicable accident. "I don't think that's necessary, (Y/n)."

"Mark, he passed out!" You sat on the edge of the bed and gently shook his shoulder. "Ethan?" You said. "Ethan, can you hear me?"

He groaned and his eyes fluttered open. "(Y/n)?" He asked groggily. "Fuck, my head hurts... What happened?"

"Mark told me you fainted. Are you okay?" You asked.

Ethan's eyes shot open as he caught sight of Mark's concerned face.

"N-no, you- Mark- I-" He couldn't find words as he clambered to the other side of the bed, trying to get as much distance between himself and his best friend.

"Ethan, what are you talking about? It's just Mark."

"He hurt me! He- he" Multiple emotions passed Ethan's face, deciding whether to trust his memory. That couldn't have happened. It was impossible.

"Ethan, you probably just had a bad dream or something." Mark said, then he turned to you and muttered "Maybe you _should_ call a doctor."

"No, I swear! (Y/n), you have to believe me, he-" 

Suddenly Mark seized Ethan by the shoulders. He went stiff with fear, eyes wide.

"Ethan." Mark took on a commanding tone. His back was to you, but you could see Ethan's face over his shoulder. "Calm down. Everything's fine. You had a bad dream. I didn't do anything to you."

Ethan's eyes glazed over, then he relaxed. Mark released him. You pulled out your phone and opened Google.

"You're right." Ethan sighed. "Sorry. I don't know what came over me." He said.

"I bet your blood sugar's low." You said, scrolling through symptoms on WebMD.

"Yeah... yeah, that's probably it." He said, taking a few breaths.

"I'll grab something for you to eat." You smiled and left.

Mark and Ethan exchanged nervous glances, each for very different reasons. The younger let out a laugh. "I had the weirdest dream." He said. They sat on the edge of the bed.

"What happened?" Mark asked.

"Uh, it's really dumb." He said.

"You almost killed me."

There was a pause. "Huh." Mark said casually.

The door opened and you stepped in, holding a few cookies. You handed them to Ethan.

"Good way to get extra food off of us." You said sarcastically.

"Haha, real funny." Ethan rolled his eyes and ate his cookies.

You joined them on the bed. "So, what happened?" You asked, looking between the two of them.

"I dunno." Ethan frowned. "The last thing I remember is drying a knife, and then I must have passed out, because after that I went to the bathroom and bandaged by hand..." he examined his palm as he said that, inspecting where he could have sworn he'd been cut. "Then I came back down and... I thought Mark attacked me."

You chuckled a little. "Are you high or something, Ethan?"

He forced a laugh in response. "Not unless Mark drugged the chicken and dumplings."

Mark stood. "I'm going back downstairs. The others are probably worried."

You followed him out the door, but poked your head back in when Ethan didn't. He was sitting there, staring at his hand.

"You coming, blueberry boy?" You asked.

"Um..." He closed his fist and turned his gaze to the night sky out the window. "Yeah, I'm just going to go to the bathroom first. I still feel a bit... dazed."

You nodded and left as Ethan sighed. Something wasn't adding up, but the thought of Mark having attacked and then _bitten_ him was much crazier than having hallucinated the whole incident.

He forced himself to stand and stumbled to the bathroom, tripping over his own feet once or twice in the process. The ground swam under his feet until he clutched the bathroom counter for balance.

He turned on the faucet and splashed the cool water on his face, going over the dream in his head. It'd felt so real. He shook himself and made a mental note to ask the doctor about low blood sugar next time he had an appointment. As he turned to shut the light off and leave, he noticed something on the other side of the counter.

Mark's first aid kit was open.


	4. Delusional

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kinda gave up on editing this one sorry lol

Ethan was sitting on the floor of your bathroom with his back to the wall. There was a reason for this. There must be some sort of logical explanation. But if he really _had_ fainted while drying dishes, he couldn't have opened the first aid kit. And everyone else was in the living room. Right?

His head was spinning, and he was terrified, but he tried to reign in his fears- convince himself he was wrong, but he looked down and the shirt he was wearing wasn't his own. Something had happened, and his mind was denying it, trying to force him to believe he was delusional.

He heard your laugh come from downstairs. You. If he was right, and he hadn't dreamt Mark attacking him, you were in danger. He had to protect you if nothing else. Mark was lying to you. To all of you. It was too much. Everything was too much. His chest was tight.

"Ethan?" He jumped as you knocked on the door. Your voice was soft and comforting, laced with concern. "Ethan, are you okay? You've been in there a while."

He tried to take a deep breath, but his lungs failed him.

"Is Mark with you?" He asked with a shaky voice.

"No." You said. "I can go get him if you want-"

"No!" He jumped to his feet and opened the door, pulling you in before you could react.

"Is something wrong?" You asked. His hands were clutching your shoulders tight.

"(Y/n), if I ask you a question, will you answer it honestly?" He asked. His eyes were frenzied and he looked panicked.

"Uh, yeah, I guess." You said.

With genuine worry in his eyes, he asked "Has Mark ever hurt you?"

"Ethan!" You exclaimed. "What the fuck??"

"Answer me!" He gripped your shoulders tighter. He was going crazy, wasn't he?

"No, of course not! He's your best friend, Ethan, stop acting like-"

“Please, you have to believe me. He attacked me, he bit me, (Y/n), _he drank my blood!”_ He shouted in desperation.

“I think you should see a doctor, Ethan. Something’s wrong.” You said seriously.

“No, I swear!” He turned around and pointed to your first aid kit which was, for some reason, open on the counter. “I cut my hand on a knife I was drying, and I came in here to bandage it. I left it open! Nobody else could have opened it!”

"That doesn't mean-" 

He whipped around and grabbed you again, somehow clutching your shoulders harder. “Look at my shirt! It’s Mark’s, right? Not mine. I’m not wearing my shirt!”

“You think that’s proof that Mark drank your blood?” You asked.

"He did!" Ethan cried.

“Your hand isn’t even cut. You’re fine.” You said. “You probably hit your head when you fainted.”

“Okay! Maybe he didn’t drink my blood! but something isn’t adding up,” He said. “What if Mark _did_ do something to me? I don’t want you to get hurt, (Y/n)!”

"Ethan, you're hurting me." You said. He let go of you, and you sighed. "Would you feel better if we asked him?"

He turned his gaze to the ground. "I'm sorry. But something definitely happened." He said.

"Come on," you said. "Let's go talk to him. I'm sure it's fine."

He reluctantly followed you downstairs where Mark was sitting on the couch with his phone. Ethan's stomach flipped when he saw that Amy, Tyler, and Kathryn had already left.

Mark looked up when he saw you two sit down on the other couch. "Something wrong?" He asked, smiling.

You glanced at Ethan, who was paler than usual. He was clearly not going to speak. “Ethan’s convinced that you did something to him.”

You weren’t sure what you were expecting, but it wasn’t for the color to drain from Mark’s face. He laughed. “Ethan?” He asked. Ethan looked mortified. His hands were visibly shaking. “I didn’t hurt you; you passed out-”

“Why am I wearing your shirt? Why was your first aid kit open?” Ethan asked. He glanced down. “You changed your shirt too.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Actually, he’s right; you were wearing a black shirt at dinner.”

Mark shrugged you off. “I stained it during dinner.” He said. “And why you're wearing my shirt is beyond me.” He chuckled.

Ethan began to look angry. “Why won't you believe me?! (Y/n), _you’re in danger.”_

You rested a hand on his shoulder. “Why don't we go see a doctor? Maybe a professional can figure out what's going on here.”

He shot up. “No!” He ran a hand through his hair. “Forget it. I'm going home.”

“Let me drive-” Mark rose to join him.

“No fucking way!” Ethan protested. 

“Be sensible. You're in no state to drive. Really you should be going to see a doctor.” Said Mark. “We can talk some things out in the car.”

You gave Ethan a reassuring smile. “It'll be fine. You can call me if anything goes wrong.”

“Fine,” Ethan saw he wasn't going to win this. “The majority of serial killers know their victims.” He added in a mumble.

“Yeah, because I'm sure Mark has a good reason to kill you.” You rolled your eyes.

Mark shrugged lightheartedly. “What can I say? I'm jealous of all his subscribers.”

You laughed, but Ethan looked just as uncomfortable as before. You sighed. “Look at it this way: if you die, I'll know Mark did it.” You said.

Mark grabbed the keys to Ethan’s car. “Let's go.”

Ethan, with one final fearful glance at you, followed Mark into his car.

“So,” Said Mark, turning the key when they were inside. “We have a lot to talk about.”


	5. You Have a Lot to Explain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't edit this, so fair warning. also sorry if the characters are OOC

Ethan’s heart was racing. “You have a lot to explain.” He said. He was right. This was going to be the end of him.

“Yeah.” Mark sighed. He pulled out of the driveway and onto the busy streets of LA. “I guess I should start by saying I’m sorry.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry.” Mark repeated. “I’m sorry I lost control.”

“You…” Ethan couldn’t find words. “You’re a vampire?” He blurted out.

“I figured we’d already established that.” Said Mark.

“Well… I don’t know! Fuck, Mark, it’s not exactly easy to believe!” Ethan shouted.

“I’m a vampire.” Said Mark. “Have been for years.”

“What are you- I- Mark-” Ethan fumbled with words.

“Calm down, Ethan. Think rationally about this. It makes it a whole lot easier.” Mark said lowly. “Breathe.”

Ethan nodded. He took a few deep breaths and organized his thoughts. Mark was a vampire. It hadn’t really registered yet, but it was true. He had attacked him. He hadn’t killed him. He apologized for it.

“Okay.” Ethan said. “I’m calm. But still don’t trust you.”

Mark let out a dry laugh. “Doesn’t really matter at this point, does it? You’re stuck in the car with me whether you like it or not.” Ethan’s eyes went wide. “Sorry.” Mark muttered. He sighed. “I don’t know where to start.” He said.

“How about the fact that I have no scars or marks from you attacking me?” Said Ethan, turning his hand over.

“Vampire blood has healing properties,” Mark explained. “If you drink it, it heals you, but if you die with it in your system, you become a vampire.”

Ethan paled. “So if we crashed, and I died, I’d turn into… one?”

Mark gave a single nod. They fell into extremely awkward silence as each couldn’t figure out what to say next.

Eventually, Mark spoke.

“If you have any questions, you might as well ask. I’ve never had to explain this before.”

“You’ve never told anyone else about this?” Ethan asked.

Mark cocked his head to one side. “Well, not really. Everyone else ran away when they found out. I didn’t really get much of a chance to tell them my side of the story.”

Ethan looked out the window. “That’s kinda sad.” He said softly.

Mark shrugged, although it hurt to think about. “The past is in the past.” He said. “Nothing I can do to change it.”

“I guess.” Said Ethan. He hesitated with his next question.

“You’ve… you’ve never hurt (Y/n), have you?” He asked.

“No!” Mark exclaimed. “No, no, I’d never dream of it. Not on purpose, anyway,” he added lowly.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Ethan asked.

Mark thought out his next words carefully. If he still had a heartbeat, it would be racing almost as fast as Ethan’s. Both men were terrified, ridden with the fear that everything would come crashing down in a second. “Sometimes I don’t drink enough.” Mark said. “I should, theoretically, drink once every day, but I keep trying to… extend it. Give some living thing out there more time to live. And, when that happens, the cravings get bad.

“I’ve gotten better at controlling it.” Mark assured him. “But I guess I saw your blood and it kinda drove me crazy.”

“Kinda?” Ethan said. “You nearly killed me.”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry. I really am.” Mark said, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel nervously. Ethan just noticed his white-knuckled grip.

“What about when you told me the attack had all been a dream?” Ethan asked. “I just… believed you.”

“I bent your mind.” Mark said bluntly. Ethan’s stomach churned at the thought of Mark controlling him. “My eyes-” he waved in the general direction of his face. “-turn yellow when I feed or control people. You don’t remember it because I didn’t want you to.”

Ethan whispered so Mark wouldn’t hear him. “I’m gonna be sick.”

“Well, it’s your car.” Mark replied.

“You heard that?”

“There isn’t a lot I don’t hear.” Mark said.

“Oh.” Ethan shifted awkwardly.

“You aren’t going to tell anyone about this, right Ethan?” Mark asked.

There was silence. “I just…” Ethan sighed. “How do I know you won’t hurt us?” He asked. Mark felt almost sick himself. He felt completely separate from the rest of the team. He wasn’t like them. He was something different, something _wrong._

“If I wanted to hurt you, I would have a long time time ago.” He said.

“But you did.” Ethan pointed out.

“I didn’t _want_ to, though! Please, Ethan, don’t tell the others.” Mark pleaded.

“I…” Ethan hesitated. “I won’t.” He said.

Mark let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding.

“On one condition.” Ethan said.

“Anything.” Mark replied.

“Tell me how to kill you.” Ethan said lowly. They were nearly at his house.

The fact that one day, Ethan might have to kill him made his stomach churn, but he was right. He should know. In case anything went wrong. Mark nodded. “Wooden stake through the heart or- or decapitation.” He said.

“That was… surprisingly easy.” Ethan said.

“No, you’re right. If something ever goes wrong- if I lose control again or try to hurt someone- don’t hesitate. Just stab me through the stomach if you don’t want to kill me, but stop me if something ever happens.” Mark said.

“Do you… want to die?” Ethan asked.

Mark swallowed. “No. But if it’s between that and hurting someone, I don’t want you to hesitate.” The thought alone of accidentally killing one of his friends- maybe even you- gave him a lump in his throat.

Ethan nodded gravely. “Okay.”

Mark parked the car outside Ethan’s apartment. He took a deep breath, then laughed. “This is so surreal.” He said.

“Yeah. Ethan,” Mark said as they stepped out of the car. “I’m sorry.”

Ethan smiled sadly and nodded. “I know.”

“Nothing’s going to change, right?” Mark asked. The cold was biting and the wind had picked up. “I’m still me. I’m still the same person you moved to LA to work with.”

“I don’t think things can stay the same way they were.” Ethan said. “But, that’s natural when you learn something new about your friends, right?” When Mark didn’t answer, Ethan spoke again. “I need time to think about this, but… I guess I trust you. Somewhat.”

“I’ll take it.” Mark smiled.

Ethan nodded and entered his apartment, leaving his friend without a goodbye. Mark turned his collar up to the cold and shoved his hands in his pockets as he walked alone back to his own apartment, the sinking guilt in his gut following him the whole way home.


	6. Paranoia And All

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a filler chapter, but I don't feel too bad about it because the next one's gonna be up in like two minutes

The bed seemed colder than usual. After Mark returned from escorting Ethan home, you tried to joke lightheartedly with him, but he blatantly ignored you. He hadn’t said a word since then. You hated this thick tension in the air for no reason: how you had to wonder if you’d done something wrong, despite the obvious. Maybe Ethan had said something to him.

You rolled over so you were facing his bare back. He always seemed so pale in the dark. You wrapped an arm around his waist tentatively, hoping to ease him into talking, but you were crushed when he tensed at your touch. Dejectedly, you pulled away.

“Are you okay?” You whispered.

Silence. He nodded once.

If anything, that made you feel worse. You swallowed thickly. Your voice was so soft, you were surprised he heard. 

“Did I do something wrong?” You asked.

He suddenly rolled over, a concerned expression on his face. “No, no, of course not.” He said. His heart broke when he saw how worried you looked. He swept a few stray hairs away from your face and smiled comfortingly. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Then why won’t you talk to me?” You said.

He brushed his fingers over your cheek. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know,” You stared at his chest, avoiding his eyes. “I guess it just feels like you aren’t telling me everything. You’re always so tense, and you won’t talk to me about it.”

“(Y/n)-”

 

“Isn’t that my job?” You asked, looking up at him. “We’re supposed to talk to each other.”

“(Y/n), there’s nothing wrong,” He said. His hand travelled down your arm. “I’m just a little stressed from work. That’s it.”

 

“Are you sure?” You whispered.

“I’m sorry.” He said. “I’ll try to talk about it more. But really, there isn’t much to say. It’s just the usual.”

“You aren’t usually like this.” You said.

“Nothing’s changed.” He said. Well. It was mostly true. “You’d be the first to know if I needed a break.”

 

“I think I’d know before you would.” You mumbled. “You work too hard.”

He let out a breathy laugh. “I know.” He said. “It’s what I like.”

You smiled and felt your shoulders relax. “Yeah. Sorry I’m being kinda paranoid.”

“No,” He said. “You’re right. I’ll learn. I’m not perfect.”

 

“I disagree.” You said.

He grinned. “You better.” You rolled over so you were facing away from him, and you felt his arm around your waist, pulling you into his chest. He kissed the back of your neck gently and you smiled.

“I love you.” He murmured against your skin.

“I love you too.”

 

You didn’t see Ethan for a week after that night. Mark didn’t question it, but the rest of you were concerned. You’d made the executive decision not to tell the others about Ethan’s episode, but you and Mark knew what had happened, and the fact that he was mostly ignoring it was strange.

One day you walked downstairs to see Mark and Ethan talking, and any fear you had vanished as the younger smiled. He was okay.

“Hey, Ethan. What are you two talking about?” You asked, resting a hand on Mark's shoulder.

Ethan shrugged. “Just making sure we're on the same page.”

“No big deal,” Mark added.

“We've missed you, Ethan.” You patted his back when you passed him as you grabbed a book from the shelf.

“Took some time off for mental health.” Ethan explained. You nodded sagely.

“You could learn from him,” you murmured to Mark, then left the pair, abandoning them for the comfort of your bed.

When they were sure you were gone, Mark turned back to Ethan.

“You know you have to be careful now.” He said.

Ethan nodded. “Figured.”

Mark shifted uncomfortably. “Sorry. Again.” He said.

Ethan waved him away. “It is what it is, I guess.”

They seemed to come to a silent agreement. Everything would be fine.

“You shouldn't disappear like that.” Said Mark. “(Y/n) was worried.”

Ethan huffed. “As worried as my subscribers?” He asked. “I didn't mean to go MIA for so long, but I just…” He looked at the ground, searching for words.

“It's a lot to take in.” Mark finished.

“Yeah. That.” Ethan turned. “Well, I'll see you next Tuesday? Tyler said you wanted to film something.”

“Oh.” He had mentioned that, hadn't he? “Yeah. I wasn't going to do it if you couldn't come.”

“I will.” Said Ethan with a smile. “But I've got to go. See you later.” He waved as he walked out the door.

 

Later, after dinner was finished and the dishes were washed, you and Mark retired to the living room. He was sitting on the couch, scrolling through responses to a video he'd posted earlier, with you sprawled out next to him, legs on his lap, mindlessly browsing Twitter.

You enjoyed times like these, when you could sit together in comfortable silence. Unfortunately, though, there was something on your mind.

“So,” you said. “What did Ethan come to talk about today? He wasn't here for very long.”

He tensed, almost unnoticeably. Almost. “Just making sure everything was clear between us.” He said.

“Okay.” You said. You'd never admit it, but you'd heard every word they said to each other. He said something about Ethan having to be careful. Why? What was he hiding from you? 

“Why?” Mark asked, not looking up from his phone. 

You shrugged nonchalantly. “Just wondering. Ethan and I haven't talked.”

He turned to you with a raised brow, searching your eyes, looking for… You didn't know what. Every once in awhile, his deep brown eyes would stare into your own and you'd feel like he was looking past your eyes and into your soul. This was one of those times. Sometimes it was alluring, now it was just uncomfortable. Like an invasion of privacy, even though nothing was happening.

Mark blinked and turned away, the feeling of his piercing eyes disappearing. He said nothing as he looked down at his phone again. He frowned at it, obviously not reading anything.

“You okay?” You asked.

“Yeah.” He said shortly.

“What-”

“(Y/n), you know if you want to know something, you can just ask, right?” He said.

Your brows knit together. “What?”

“You heard me.” He said.

“Did I do something wrong?” You asked. Your heart was hammering in your chest. Did he know you'd eavesdropped?

He glared at you for a second and you felt guilt searing your gut. “You know what you did.” He said.

You dropped your eyes. “Are you angry at me?” You asked.

“Not particularly.” He said. “Not happy with you, though.”

“I'm sorry.” You said.

He tilted your chin up to meet his surprisingly warm gaze. “Why did you feel like you had to eavesdrop?” He asked.

You looked down at his chest, which was as low as your eyes could go at this angle. “I dunno. I don't feel like you'd tell me if I hadn't, I guess.” You swallowed.

“You don't think I'd tell you?” He asked. You nodded slowly.

He seemed entirely composed, but guilt was eating at him just the same as you, and now he'd have to come up with another lie.

“What were you talking about when you said he'd have to be careful?” You asked.

He didn't know what to say. “Just that… He'd have to make sure he didn't have another episode.” He responded.

“Alright.” You sighed. His thumb brushed your cheek and you leaned into his hand. “I'm sorry I'm so paranoid. Sorry you have to deal with me.”

“No, no, I love you (Y/n). Paranoia and all.” He joked.

“I love you too.” You said. He leaned down, and his lips met yours in a soft kiss.


	7. Ethan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy oh boy things are finally happening I hate doing exposition-y shit

It was surprisingly nice, Mark found, to have someone else to confide in. Ethan was inherently curious, so he was constantly asking questions. Mark would answer to the best of his ability, and in return, Ethan kept his secret.

“How does one become a vampire?” He'd asked.

“I'd have to bite you, you'd have to drink my blood, you'd have to die with it in your system… It's a process.”

“What does it feel like?” He asked.

“Painful.” Was the only answer he received.

Tuesday, when Ethan and Tyler were supposed to come over to record, was a lazy day. Before they came over, you and Mark decided to go for a walk. You rarely got out together anymore, and it was a nice day. So you held hands as you walked the not so peaceful streets of L.A.

After a while of quiet walking, Mark winced. “What the hell?” He mumbled.

“What's wrong?” You frowned.

He picked up his pace and pulled you around a sharp turn, then began to run. You struggled to keep up with him, and eventually ran out of breath, but he kept going.

“Mark, what are you-” you cut off with a gasp as he rounded another corner. What was left of a car was mangled, somehow upside down, in the middle of the street, another mostly destroyed car close by.

“Oh my- hey, what are you doing?” Mark let go of your hand and raced for the wreckage.

“Call 911!” He shouted.

He didn't bother with the door. The window was gone, and he had no problem climbing in where it should have been. “Mark, what are you doing? Get out of there!”

You clearly weren't going to stop him, so you pulled out your phone and called the authorities. It was hard to hear the voice over the pounding in your ears.

You waited with bated breath. Mark was a fucking idiot.

But a few seconds later, he pulled out a frail, mangled body. He stumbled away from the wreck as the back of the car exploded behind him, throwing off his step, but the body he carried didn't waver. It looked like he was carrying someone no heavier than a child.

He laid the man down on the concrete gently, cradling him in his arms. You rushed to their side as police sirens blared behind you.

“What-” your breath caught.

“Ethan! Ethan, can you hear me?” Mark asked. He was hardly recognizable. His body was mangled and broken, and his head was covered in blood. Mark reached up and gently wiped it off his face, eyes lingering on it a moment too long.

You were frozen. You couldn't think straight. Nothing was registering. There was a man behind you, but you didn't think anything of it. He was saying something, and then you were being pulled away. Pulled away from… Pulled away from… Mark… Ethan… Ethan?

Mark was gone, he'd taken Ethan somewhere. Why had he done that? Your stomach churned and everything was swaying. Bile rose in your throat, and you realized with a numb mind that you were going to throw up…

“Mark?” Ethan’s eyes fluttered open. “What… I can't feel…”

“Shh, shh, don't say anything, it's okay, it's okay.” Mark said, even though he could feel the tears in his throat. They were in a nearby alley. Sirens blared in the background

“What happened?” He asked groggily.

“You… You crashed.” Mark answered. He blinked away tears that were blurring his vision.

“I…” He groaned, and laid his head back in Mark's arms. “Am I going to die?”

Mark looked down at his body and head. There was a lot of blood. God, they are running out of time, running out of time, he had to do something. He had to fix this somehow.

Ethan saw the look in his eye and exhaled what he could. There was blood flowing from his mouth. Mark’s eyes were streaming now, but he pushed it away. He had to think rationally.

“Ethan.” Mark said. “Stay with me. You don't have to die.”

Ethan made a small noise. He wasn't sure what that was supposed to mean.

“I won't force it on you.” Mark promised, squeezing his friend. “You have a choice.”

There was a pause where Mark panicked. They were running out of time, come on Ethan, come on-

Ethan’s head bobbed as best it could. 

Mark didn't hesitate. He sank his fangs deep into Ethan’s neck, where blood was already running. Not a second later, he pulled away and pierced the skin on his wrist, pressing it to Ethan’s mouth. With a painful stab, Mark remembered just a few days ago when he was explaining this process to him. He could hear Ethan’s heartbeat fading. He passed out, but not before Ethan could swallow a few drops of Mark’s sweet blood. He just prayed it would be enough as the soft beating in his ear faded to nothing.

He picked him up bridal style and began to run, using his speed to take him back to Ethan's apartment in a matter of seconds. He laid him on the bed, and, with a stab of guilt, he bit his neck again, draining most of the blood from his system. Ethan’s life force stained the light sheets a dark crimson color. If Mark hadn't been used to the sight, he would probably have thrown up his lunch.

Mark paced the little room as minutes ticked by. Ethan would live, Ethan would live, Ethan would live. He repeated the phrase over and over again, even though it technically wasn't true. Either way Ethan would die.

Eventually he busied himself with cleaning up the blood he'd stained the carpet with, and used a damp washcloth to clean Ethan's wounds, which were now gone. He breathed a sigh of relief as he saw that there was no trace of the incident on Ethan's body. In a few days, Ethan would be a vampire.

Oh god. Ethan would be a vampire. He'd just turned someone.

He sat down on the edge of the bed and sighed, head spinning. He'd just sired _Ethan._

His best friend was going to have to live with the same curse he did.


	8. Change

“Fucking hell.” Mark was jostled out of sleep by Ethan's voice. He was sitting up in bed with his hands over his diaphragm, looking significantly paler.

“You might want a bucket,” Mark said, hurrying to get one from wherever he could find it. He was too late. Ethan was running out the door of his bedroom to the bathroom, and the unsettling sounds of Ethan emptying his stomach came quick until he groaned and returned to bed. 

“I feel like absolute shit.” Ethan said. 

“Well, your body’s trying adjust to the fact that you're dead, so that's expected.

“Shit…” Ethan muttered. “I almost died.”

“You did die.” Mark corrected him.

“You know what I mean.” Ethan said. Mark passed him the bucket as he began to wretch again, and puked into it.

“How long is this going to last?” He rolled over and curled up, pulling the blankets close.

“A couple days.” Mark answered.

“Fantastic.” Ethan said sarcastically.

“The puking should stop by tomorrow. Usually your blood burns as it’s replaced, but most of yours is gone, so I don't think it'll be as bad.” He explained.

Ethan groaned. “You'll stay?” He asked.

“‘Course. I'm your sire.”

He didn't have the energy to ask what that meant.

Mark pulled a chair out of Ethan's living room and stationed it in the bedroom so he wouldn't have to leave his side as he slept. The process of changing to a vampire was painful and unpredictable, and he wasn't about to let Ethan go through it alone.

The only time he left the room was when his phone began to ring.

“Hello?” He answered. 

“Mark! Thank god. Where the hell are you?” You shouted.

Shit. “I'm…” He sighed. There was really only one way out of this, even though it pained him to think about. “I'm at Ethan’s house. Why don't you come over here? I'll explain everything.”

“Well, yeah, I've been looking for you for hours. I was worried. See you in a bit.” You hung up.

 

A few minutes later, you threw open the door to Ethan's apartment, not bothering with knocking. “Mark?” You called.

Suddenly he was right in front of you, and his hand was under your chin. “Mark, what are you-”

His piercing eyes stared deep into yours, but they weren't the warm brown you were used too, they were gold, and they were _glowing_. You should be freaking out, but you weren't. You were too focused on how beautiful his eyes were...

His voice was low and commanding, and as soon as he spoke, he had your undivided attention. “Go home.” He said. “Forget this ever happened. Forget seeing Ethan in the crash. If anyone asks, I'm here with Ethan because he called to tell me he's sick, and I wanted to check in. Tell Tyler I didn't have time to call him. Everything is fine. Do you understand?”

You nodded. Your head was suddenly cloudy, but Mark was right. Listen to Mark. You can trust Mark.

“Good.” He said. Your heart swelled at his approval. “Now forget we had this conversation, and do as I told you.”

You nodded dazedly and left. As soon as you were home and walked in the door, your head cleared, but you couldn't remember why you were down here and not upstairs.

 

Mark felt a stab of regret as you walked out the door. He'd never done that before. Not to you, anyway. He hated the thought of bending your mind. It felt like an invasion of privacy. But what choice did he have?

He decided it was for the best to stop dwelling on it, and retreated to ethan’s bedroom instead. You should be home by now.

He dialed your number. “Hey, (Y/n).” He said when you picked up. “Ethan’s pretty sick. I'm going to spend the night here to make sure he's alright.”

“Geez, is he okay? He doesn't need to go to the hospital or anything, does he?” You asked from the other end. Mark let out a breath. It worked.

“No, I don't think so. Don't worry, I've got it under control.”

“You want me to come over?” You asked.

“Nope.” He answered. “Everything's fine. You can relax and have a nice night without me around to bother you.”

“Oh, hell yes, finally.” You answered sarcastically. “If you're sure. Love you.” You said.

“Love you too.” He hung up just as Ethan threw up whatever was left in his stomach into the bucket.

“I hate this.” Ethan groaned.

“Yeah, it sucks.” Mark answered. He opened his phone to see that the police were baffled by a car crash in Los Angeles in which a driver was missing from one of the cars. The other driver swore there had been a person in the other car, but she was likely in shock, and possibly delusional.

Well, at least it was simply an unsolved case for police and boys on YouTube to theorize about, rather than if someone had seen him carrying a corpse from the scene.

“D’you wanna sleep?” Ethan slurred, clearly drained of energy.

“Nah, I'll be fine.” Mark said.

“There's a guest bedroom,” Ethan said.

“I'll be fine.” Mark repeated.

“Suit yourself…” Ethan was out cold before the end of the sentence. 

Mark scrolled through Twitter and Tumblr for a while, yawning, until he got too bored and tired to care. He didn't mean to fall asleep, but despite himself, he woke up a few hours later as the sun was streaming in through the curtains. Ethan wasn't in bed.


	9. Your Turn

Ethan shuffled in not a minute later, wrapped in every blanket in the house.

“What are you doing?” Mark asked, stifling a laugh as Ethan flopped onto the bed and buried himself under the sheets.

“I-I’m really cold.” He said. His teeth were chattering.

“You get used to it. Still throwing up?” Mark asked. Ethan shook his head.

“N-no, but I'm really, r-really hungry.” He said.

“Mm,” Mark hummed, then looked out the window. “You're probably not ready to drink blood yet. I'm not sure if your system could handle it.”

Ethan let out a muffled whimper from under his many many blankets. “I have to k-kill people now?”

“I didn't say that.” Mark answered. “But you do have to drink from them.” 

“Jesus, can you keep it down? You don't need to yell.” He groaned. “Can't I just bite animals or something?” He asked.

Mark wasn't yelling, but he lowered his voice to accommodate Ethan’s newly sensitive ears. “I suppose. It's not like you have much of a choice. Until you get used to this, your self control is going to need a lot of work before you can be around humans without, you know, killing them.”

“You should have let me die.” Ethan mumbled.

“I gave you a choice.” Mark said.

“I know. It's not your fault.” Ethan said.

“Well, it isn't yours either. Unless you meant to hit that other car.”

“She swerved into the middle of the lane.” Ethan snapped.

“There, see? Not your fault.” Mark said, unfazed by Ethan's anger.

There was a knock on the front door. Ethan covered his ears and swore under his breath at the loud sound. “Fucking hell, I can hear their heartbeat…” He muttered.

Mark opened the door to see Amy. “Hey, what's up?”

“(Y/n) told me Ethan’s sick. Is everything okay?” She asked, concern etched in her features.

“Oh, yeah, he's doing much better. But he’s sleeping right now.” Mark answered.

“That's good.” She said. “Then are you- oh, hey, Ethan.”

Mark whipped around on his heal. Ethan, still wrapped in blankets, was standing behind Mark with a strange expression on his face.

“Feeling better?” Amy asked over Mark’s shoulder.

Ethan took a step toward the door, and Mark stepped in front of him. “Yeah, everything's fine, but we don't want you getting sick, so-”

“Then why are you in there?” Amy asked. 

“Sorry, gotta go, no time-” Mark shut the door on her, then forcibly pushed Ethan back into his bedroom, where he stumbled and regained his composure.

“That was…” Ethan shuddered. He stared at Amy through the window as she returned to the car and drove away, more confused than when she arrived.

“Yeah, see what I mean? It’s gonna get worse tomorrow when the transition’s done.” Mark said. His phone dinged.

“Feels pretty done to me.” Ethan muttered.

“You don’t know what ‘done’ feels like, you idiot.” Mark said.

Ethan shrugged, lacking the energy to argue, and fell back on his bed. “I’m going back to sleep.”

“Alright.” Mark said, pulling out his phone to see who was texting him.  
_Any idea when you’ll be home?_ the message from you said.

_Spending another night here. I’ll be back tomorrow._

_Are you sure you don’t want me to come over? I’m worried about Ethan_

_Everything’s fine_

_You’re not just saying that, are you?_

“I’m going to go record a video in your office.” Mark said. Ethan made a noise of approval as Mark left to go record something quick and easy.

_Of course not. He’s okay_

_At least let me bring you some food or something_

_We don’t need it really I can cook_

_cmon I miss you. And it’s the least I can do_

_You’re not going to let me say no are you_

_nope_

Mark ran a hand over his face. You were too kind for your own good, quite literally in this case.

_How about tomorrow? You can bring breakfast or something_

_Alright_

He turned his phone off and set it down on the desk. Trying his best not to disturb Ethan, he locked the door to the bedroom. Just in case. He was already regretting letting you come over, but it was too late now. He made enough excuses as it was.

The knocking came at the front door the next morning. before Ethan was awake. Mark took a breath, then opened it.

“Hey,” You said. You were carrying a large plate of waffles and a few strawberries. “Could he eat this?” You asked.

“I think so. We’ll find out, I guess.” Mark took the platter gratefully. He hooked his free arm around your waist and pulled you close, pecking your forehead. “Thank you.” He said.

“You’re welcome. Can I talk to him or what?” You asked.

“He’s asleep right-” Mark stopped short. He could hear Ethan’s footsteps. “He’s…” Shit. Yeah, this was a terrible idea. Mark needed to stop taking risks like this. 

“He’s asleep?” You asked. His face was contorted with confusion, or… something. Ethan opened the front door and stepped out.

“Hey, Eth-”

“Ethan, go back inside.” Mark demanded.

Ethan looked angry, why, you didn’t have time to contemplate. Just as Mark reached for Ethan, he pushed past his arm and grabbed you by the collar of your shirt, slamming you against the wall.

“Hey! What the f-” Before you could say anything else, he covered your mouth and bit down on your neck.

You made a choked noise, in your state of shock, before you tried to scream against his hand. Tears formed at the corners of your eyes, blurring the image of Mark grabbing him.

He clung to you. Even as Mark pulled him away from the wall, Ethan wrapped his arms around you with strength you didn’t know he possessed. You threw yourself at him, kicking and waving your arms, but you couldn’t get him off of you. He was far too strong. Mark was screaming something, but you weren’t paying attention to him. 

Mark wrenched Ethan’s arms off of you, but by the time he got around to it, you were already exhausted. You’d stopped struggling and had resorted to making small whimpers. Between the few pints of blood you’d lost and counting and the struggling, you’d already managed to tire yourself out.

“Ethan, let go!” Mark shouted. He didn’t listen. “Fuck’s sake. I’m sorry, (Y/n).”

A squeal escaped your throat as Mark pulled Ethan off of you, tearing skin. There were now two long gashes in your throat where Ethan’s… god, you didn’t even want to think it. How was this happening?

Without Ethan holding you up, you collapsed, blood flowing out of the now large open wounds across your jugular. You groaned in pain before Mark knelt down next to you and scooped you up in his arms.

His fingers brushed across your neck, and you whimpered. His eyes were full of regret.

“Mark, what the fuck is going on?” You hissed.

“Do you trust me, (Y/n)?” He asked.

“I-”

“Do you trust me?” He repeated. 

“Y-yeah,” You said reluctantly.

He bit into his wrist, then pressed it to your lips. “Drink.” He commanded.

Colors were starting to blur together, and you were dizzy. “Mark…” You said weakly. “What’s going on? Are you… are you part of some weird cult or something?”

“I’ll explain later, okay? Right now you have to trust me. Drink.” He repeated.

You searched his blurry eyes for some sign of a lie or malintent, but you saw none. “Come on, (Y/n), please. Please.” He begged.

If you could, you would have run away, away from this house, away from Mark, away from Ethan, especially, but you couldn’t. The feeling in your limbs was fading fast as your warm blood kept flowing from your jugular.

“Get away from me…” You said groggily. Mark had those teeth too. Whatever… whatever Ethan was, Mark was, too.

He could’ve heard his heart break if it was still there. This was all wrong. You weren’t supposed to be afraid of him. “I don’t want to hurt you, I’m trying to heal you!” He exclaimed. Ethan was standing behind him, frozen, with blood flowing down his chin.

“Goddammit.” He muttered. He really didn’t want to, but you didn’t have a choice. Going to the hospital would be disastrous. And besides, this was his mistake. He had to fix it. He pressed his wrist to your mouth, and you whimpered, trying to push it away. As always, his strength was far beyond your own, and it was no use. He pinched your nose, forcing you to swallow the blood from his wrist.


	10. Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YES I KNOW IT'S BEEN AWHILE

“Mark, I’m really sorry.”

Mark sighed as he laid you, unconscious, on the couch. “I know.” He said. “It was my fault, though, not yours.”

Ethan shifted uneasily. “I can’t believe I did that…”

There was no answer. Mark smoothed your hair away from your face, wishing he could take back the last few hours. Or days. God, if he could just start over… “The first time is always the worst.” He said. “The urge has probably passed now.”

Ethan nodded. “Mostly. So… now what?”

Mark shrugged and sat down in another chair. “I suppose I change their memory when they wake up.”

Ethan looked uncomfortable. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“Do you have a better one?”

“Well…” He started. “You could… not. Hear me out,” He said quickly in response to Mark’s glare. “They were probably going to find out anyway.”

Mark shook his head and looked out the window. The sun was high in the sky at this point. “Not like this.” He said. “You’re right, I suppose they should… know, but this…” His gaze turned to you, sleeping fitfully on the couch with gauze taped to your neck. The wound was probably healed by now. “This isn’t how they should find out.” 

Ethan nodded and decided not to press anymore. “Are you going to tell them?”

Mark closed his eyes. “I don’t know. It’s not exactly an easy conversation to have.”

Ethan was well aware.

~

You woke with a start. Where were you? Whose couch was this?

“Hey, (Y/n).” Mark was sitting next to you.

Ethan’s house. You were in Ethan’s house. And you felt like shit. What happened last night?

Mark watched your eyes widen as you remembered.

“(Y/n).” His voice was firm now.

“Y-you-” You couldn’t find your breath long enough to speak. You started to get away from him, but he grabbed your shoulder with his unnaturally strong grip and tilted your head so you were looking at him. 

Ethan left the room. 

 

 

A few minutes later, Ethan walked in on you and Mark sitting on the couch together talking.

“Hey, Ethan. Are you feeling better?” You asked, smiling. The gauze was gone from your neck.

“Yeah.” He said, disgruntled. “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” You asked. “You don’t sound fine.”

“Recovering.” He looked at the ground and then walked away without another word.

Mark wrapped an arm around your shoulders. “He’s had a rough morning.” He explained.

“I suppose.” You said. “Are you coming home yet?”

He sighed. “Yeah. I suppose.” He pecked you on the cheek. “I’ll meet you in the car, okay?”

You nodded and left.

“Ethan?” Mark called.

He was laying in his bed, back in his blanket burrito. 

“Will you be okay here on your own?” He asked.

“I’ll be fine.” He said harshly.

Mark frowned. “Are you angry at me?”

Ethan sat up, only his head visible from the blankets. “It just… it feels wrong to… to change their mind like that.”

“I know.” Mark said. “There wasn’t any other way.”

Ethan frowned for a minute, then laid back down.

“Call me if you have any problems, okay?”

There was a movement in the pile of sheets and Mark assumed Ethan had nodded.

 

 

Not a minute after Mark got home, his phone chimed. Ethan had already texted him.

_Are you going to tell (Y/n)?_

He shot back a reply: _Maybe when I think the time is right._

_The time is never right Mark this is real life not a movie_

He groaned and set his phone down.

“So,” You tapped Mark’s chest. “Since you were gone for two days, I think _you_ get to make dinner.” You said playfully.

Mark grinned wide. He suddenly pulled you flush against him and pressed a gentle but passionate kiss to your lips. You melted into him.

“God, I missed you,” He said with a twinkle in his eye. His hands began to wander as he pressed closer and kissed you again, but you pulled away.

“Dinner, Mark.” You said, smiling. “I’m hungry.”

He kissed you again and went to the stove. You sat down and Chica immediately demanded your attention with her nose in your lap and passionate tail wagging. You cooed and scratched her ears. Mark chuckled at you two as he worked. 

“What are you laughing at?” You asked.

He smiled fondly. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” You chuckled. 

Mark’s phone dinged again. He reached across the counter and unlocked it, still mixing with his free hand. _Are you going to teach me how to do that stuff?_ Ethan asked.

_You mean like compelling? Yeah. It’s my job as your sire_

_What if I don’t want to learn?_ Was his quick reply.

Mark wasn't sure what to say to that.

 _Better to have the knowledge and not use it than need it and not have it_

Ethan didn’t respond for a few minutes.

_I guess you’re right_

“Did you ever figure out what Ethan was sick with?” You asked, scrolling mindlessly through Twitter.

“Just the stomach flu or something.” He shrugged, concentrating on the task at hand. “Nothing serious.”

Mark worked in silence and you passed the time browsing random social media websites, scrolling past whatever politics was going on at the time.

Eventually, you were presented a plate and Mark’s ridiculous French accent. “Dinner is served, madmoizelle.”

“Thanks, Mark.” You said. “You’re lovely.”

“I know.” He said smugly. “I’m perfect and handsome and talented. You don’t need to remind me.”

“I take it back.” You said, eyeing him over your fork. “You’re a dork.”

He feigned being deeply offended. “How dare you?”

You just laughed him off. “Did you get around to uploading a video today?” You asked.

“Uh, no. I didn’t.”

You rolled your eyes. “Hey, I’m busy!” He protested.

“Yeah, it’s not like your fans know you have an upload schedule anyway.” You teased.

He glared playfully at you as he picked at his food.

“Are you not hungry?’ You asked.

He shrugged. “Not particularly. I ate earlier.”

You quickly finished your plate and took them both to the sink to wash, along with the pan Mark used.

You’d hardly started before Mark’s arms were around your waist and he was kissing your neck.

“Mark, I have dishes to do.” You said, cupping his face and getting his beard wet in the process.

He whirled you around and leaned in and pressed his lips to yours, pushing you against the counter to deepen the kiss. He had a mischievous glint in his eye as he pulled away, leaving you breathless. 

“The dishes can wait.”


End file.
